Twelve Little White Lines
by tahtiiawnuhFF
Summary: Everyone has their own way to cope. Her's is in the form of twelve little white lines. This is the story about how she learned to stop. Eventual SSHG. Warnings: Self Harm, DH Spoilers, and EWE. Canon Character Death excluding dear Snivellus.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: SO. This kinda just spilled out of me yesterday while I was reading "Once Upon A Potion's Class".**

**They have nothing to do with each other. It just popped to me at that moment.**

**Let me know if I should continue. I have many more chapters written but I don't know if I should just keep it as this twoshot.**

**- Me**

**DISCLAIMER:**** THAT THING. WHERE. I DON'T OWN HARRY POTTER. YEAH.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 1<strong>

The cold from the tile floor under her could be felt through her denim shorts. The voice in head was getting louder.

She clutched her mass of hair, rocking back and forth.

Her eyes were blurry with unshed tears, trying to focus on the white sink cabinet in front of her.

'_Crucio, you filthy Mudblood!'_

"No, no, NO. SHUT UP," she insisted, hitting her palms against her temples, squeezing her eyes shut.

_Her cackle rang throughout the large ballroom._

"**NO**," she sobbed loudly. She was grateful she had put a silencing charm on the small dorm bathroom.

She banged her head lightly against the wall behind her.

_She was on top of her, blade gleaming._

'_You'll cut to cope. You'll bleed out that disgusting disgraceful filth from your veins and think of me.'_

_And she spat on her face, sneering joyfully at the defeated desolate girl._

Hermione looked at her bare arms. One arm bore her trademark insult, the other sporting twelve thin white horizontal lines.

So much self-inflicted harm. Her logical mind knew it was wrong, that it didn't help, not really, and that Bellatrix was gone. Long gone.

But the other half… told her she was useless, that she deserved it. A part of her silently kept her abuser alive.

The tears flowed freely now, pouring down her cheeks.

The blade was next to her, slowly coming to reside in her left hand.

Harry and Ron had asked her when she had become so ambidextrous.

She just mentally flinched and tried her best to deceive.

'_Poor baby. It'll make you feel better,'_ the thin yet sultry voice in her head cooed.

She scowled. Only because she knew she'd give in. And soon.

She brought the small X-acto knife to her wrist.

Sighing in relief, she felt the cool touch of the blade slide against her skin.

Slowly, one after the other, the volume of the voice lowered, reducing it to a whisper.

Oh, how the release was all too sweet.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

She woke with a start. She looked down to see her arm stained with rivulets of dried blood.

First she performed a cleaning spell on her arm. She proceeded to then use a healing spell to keep the cuts from bleeding any further.

Lastly, she waved quick glamour over it to conceal her fresh wounds.

She felt weightless, able to breathe deeply. She got up and looked at the analog clock on the wall.

6:43 P.M.

Just enough time go to the Great Hall for dinner. She splashed water on her face, put on some extra deodorant and grabbed a hair-tie.

As she walked back into her room, she gathered her curls into a messy low bun.

Clad in her denim Bermudas, a white cami, and her white Muggle trainers, she snatched her grey sweater off her four-poster bed.

In no time she was bounding down the stairs, through the Commons, and out the Portrait hole.

***o*o*o***

As she waited for the moving stairs to pause, she pulled at her sleeves absentmindedly, chewing on her lip.

"Oh, hullo, Hermione," she heard from a dreamy voice behind her.

She turned to a familiar face. "Oh hi, Luna. How are you on this Sunday evening?" she replied, smiling brightly. Well as bright as she could muster without feeling forced.

"Oh, I'm fine really. My father owled me saying he spotted some Pillywinks by our home. I was quite upset and flustered that I wasn't there to witness it.

But he did send me some photographs. Would you like to see?" she asked smoothly, smiling serenely.

"Of course! But um… what exactly are Pillywinks?" Hermione questioned skeptically, as her friend rummaged through her messenger bag.

The stairs came to a stop and they continued their assent.

"Here look," the blonde began, handing her a handful of moving photos. "They're small little critters that take on the current core emotion of your heart. Sort of like a mood ring, you could say. But more genuine, I think."

Hermione walked and flipped through the pictures. Blurs of small blue, white, yellow, and pink blobs decorated the crystal clear depiction of green grass.

"Papa and I both agree that they're not very photogenic," she whispered matter-of-factly, nodding at her own statement.

Hermione just smiled gently and handed her back the photos. They walked in comfortable silence as they turned the corner, nearing the Great Hall.

"You know… you can always talk to me. That is, if you need to," Luna hummed knowingly. Her blue eyes twinkled lightly, seriously competing with those of their late Headmaster.

Hermione was taken aback, eyes wide.

"Wh-what do you m-mean?" she stuttered, involuntarily flexing both her arms and balling her fists.

They were nearing the oak doors. Luna just sighed softly and grinned kindly.

"You weren't the only one that fell victim to her, Hermione. Just think about it," she let out in a hushed tone.

Without warning, she grasped Hermione's tense hand and then skipped past her and into the clamorous Hall.

She stood there, shocked, and still processing. Why hadn't she thought of that before?

Was she really that blinded by her own selfish pain?

Needless to say, Harry, and even Ron, both noticed her lack of attention that night.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

The next day was uneventful. The morning blurred together, her focus drifting to and from class lectures.

At the moment, her and her friends were in Charms. Unfortunately, they were having a theorical day instead of a practical one.

She sighed noiselessly when suddenly she felt a note slide under her robed arm.

Pulling it to her, she unfolded it rather stealthily, reading the familiar tidy scrawl.

_**What's up with you? You've been so distractible. **_

_**I mean, Ron even noticed. So. That's sayin' something, 'Mione. **_

_**I'm sorry if I'm being nosey. Or overreacting. **_

_**But I'm just looking out for you.**_

_**- Harry**_

She smiled, her heart warming at her friends' worry. She looked over at him and he was fidgeting unsurely.

She shook her head, glad she had the friends she did. Grabbing her quill, she set it to the parchment and quickly scribbled away her reply.

_Oh Harry, you worry too much. I'm fine. Just. _

_Had a nightmare about the Manor again._

_It was just. So real this time. I know it seems silly. But still._

_Anyway. __**I**_ _don't have to pay attention, really._

_Though I should. So stop fussing, and focus!_

_- HG_

She handed him the note back, but before he could reply, she quietly ripped a corner off her notes.

_And thank you. Really. For noticing. For caring._

_It helped more than you can imagine._

_I was wondering though… can…_

_Can we talk tonight? Just us. I love Ron… but._

_I don't want him seeing this side of me._

_I'm too ashamed._

She slid it over to him, his face as he read the words showing the range of emotions. From anger, to sadness, to understanding, to happiness, to supportiveness, to sadness once more.

He looked at her, eyes melancholy, a small smile playing on his lips. He nodded once.

She didn't even know what she wanted to talk about. But she knew it would be good.

***o*o*o***

She was wringing her hands together. It was midnight; she was in her pajamas, pacing in their cozy Common Room.

_Maybe this wasn't such a good idea… maybe if I just went back upstairs he'd assume I fell asleep and never woke back up! Perfect._

She turned to retreat but was greeted by a welcoming sight: Harry Potter in nothing but a fuzzy blue bathrobe, a white t-shirt, and navy blue boxers with a golden snitch on the… front.

She sniggered as he blushed, covering himself up.

"Oh sorry, sorry," she let out between giggles, covering her mouth.

He tried to suppress a grin, but it got the better of him. "Can't be too angry. It's good to hear you laugh."

She smiled and linked arms with him, walking to sit down on her favorite plush armchair fit for two.

Once they were comfortable, she sighed and rested her head on his shoulder.

"So tell me. What's going on in that wound up head of yours?" he began, wrapping a protective arm around his best friend.

She nuzzled into the warmth of her brother. Well, might as well be, really. She sighed again and picked at her nails.

"I hear her sometimes… I told you that… over summer?... (She felt him nod slowly)…. I don't know. It… it wasn't that bad. The torture, I mean… (At this she felt him tense, but she pressed on)… It was her words, really. Her voice… it still haunts me. I still… I still sometimes feel so… worthless…" she spilled out, voice cracking on the last word.

He tightened his grip on her instinctively. No wonder she didn't want Ron to see this part of her. The normally confident, bright, optimistic girl, was now reduced to someone so insecure, so shriveled up inside herself, so… broken.

He heard her sniffle, rubbing her eyes furiously. As much as he did dislike seeing her in pain, she knew she needed it. It was she who abhorred it the most, finding it weak.

"Hey. It's okay. You can cry with me, buttercup. You know that," he whispered, using her preferred nickname as he stroked her hair.

"I know, I know. I just hate it. That's all. But I trust you. I just… I wish I was stronger sometimes. You know?" she mumbled surprisingly meekly.

"Hermione Jean Granger. You _are_ strong! And most definitely not worthless. I probably would have not only failed all my classes, but would have starved, frozen my arse off, and completely lost hope in my attempts to find all the damn Horcruxes," he reprimanded endearingly.

She choked back a sob and nuzzled closer to him.

"Thank Harry. I guess I am a bit hard on myself. If a Pillywink came by me he'd probably take on the core emotion of insanity!" she said, laughing at her own joke.

He looked down at her quizzically. She just looked up and smiled.

"Luna," she informed, as he nodded, grinning in comprehension.

"Speaking of which… she reached out to me yesterday," she mentioned, sitting up with more energy now.

"Really? How so?" he replied, following suit.

"Well… I was studying in my room before dinner on Sunday, while you guys were at Quidditch practice with Ron. And I had a flashback… and a meltdown. I… didn't want to tell you in class because you already were so worried. So… I didn't really have a nightmare. At least not this time. But yeah, after… that… I went to go to dinner. And she was behind me. And we walked and talked. But… before she left she said… 'You're not the only one that fell victim to her, Hermione' and 'I'm always here if you need to talk' and I don't know… it just got me thinking," she relayed, conveniently gliding over the crucial part concerning her…. Vice.

_She couldn't tell him… it'd break his heart. She was so surprised that he hadn't noticed this summer. Well, not that surprised. _

_Since she put all of herself in trying to hide it. Besides… even if he __could__ take it, she wasn't so sure __she__ could take it. _

_She just… wasn't ready. It was her secret. Her private way of dealing with things that didn't bother anyone else._

He was silent for a bit, mulling over everything she had just revealed to him. Things had been difficult these past few months, coming back as 7th years after the war.

Thank Merlin, the Halloween Feast was up soon. He turned to look at the dismantled girl next to him. Boy, did she need a break already.

"I love you so much, buttercup. I hope you _are_ able to connect with Luna. I really hadn't thought of that either. Jeez. I mean, I though, yeah sure, she was captured, malnourished, and neglected. But. I never thought…" but his voice trailed off.

She was looking at him intently as he looked up into the empty fireplace longingly.

"I love you too, Harry. There is something else… I want to tell you. But. I can't. Not yet, at least. I just. Need more time to… cope," she whispered delicately, looking down bashfully.

He just nodded, not putting much thought to it or it would drive him crazy. He resolved to peck her one the forehead. She smiled sadly up at him.

"Thank you, Harry. This… I really needed this."

"Hey. You gave up a year of your precious education for me. It's the least I can do, 'Mione."

She let the warmth of his words take over her. Maybe she was worth it, she didn't know just yet.

One thing was for sure, though, he most definitely made her feel like it.

At least for a little while.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

**HEY... SO HARRY TOLD ME**

**YOU TWO TALKED. I GET THAT YOU**

**FEEL WEAK SHOWING ME THAT SIDE**

**OF YOU… BUT I LOVE YOU, ANGEL.**

**YOU KNOW I DO. AND. THAT'S NOT **

**CHANGING. OKAY? SO. I'M HERE FOR YOU.**

**WHENEVER IT IS YOU WANT TO TALK.**

**LOVE YOU,**

**R.**

**P.S. IGNORE MY SEEMINGLY ANGRY SELF,**

**I JUST HAVE TO GET OVER THAT YOU CAN**

**TALK TO HARRY AND NOT ME.**

**SORRY IN ADVANCE.**

It was already Thursday. She had received his owl during her free period the previous day, after ignoring him all of Tuesday, and apologizing shortly after, that same night. Well more… him shouting at her… and her crying… and then him feeling bad. And then her apologizing.

She was in Double Potions now with the Slytherins, running her fingers over the little note gingerly.

Neville eyed her warily through his peripherals, no doubt worrying that the only way he could pass the class was currently not paying attention.

Suddenly she felt a presence behind her, quickly stuffing the piece of parchment into her robe pocket.

"Miss Gu-Granger. I'd app-ppreciate it if y-you paid ATTENTION, INSTEAD OF WA-WASTING MY TIME," his labored and guttural voice sneered darkly.

Even with small speech impediment, he was still as threatening as ever. That plus monthly/seasonal anti-venom doses, he was the same old Snape everyone had learned and loved to hate.

She mentally scowled but quickly apologized and grabbed her quill.

"Twenty points from G-Gryffindor. For seri-ious lack of focu-uhs, Miss Granger," he admonished, stalking away to his desk, robes billowing characteristically.

Several groans were heard throughout the classroom.

"Quiet! Now get back to w-work. All of y-you!" he barked, sitting down and pulling a stack of papers toward himself.

And then it hit her. Hard. She was a disappointment. To her friends. To her House.

'_Told you you were a good for nothing TWAT. Not worthy to lick the dirt off my SHOES.'_

'_No. NOT here. Not now,'_ she scolded herself interiorly. It had been days since she had the urge to cut. And it felt amazing. Especially after talking to Harry. She felt lighter than she had on Sunday after… well. She felt lighter than she had before.

_I can fight this. I know I can._

'_No. You can't. You're weak. Insignificant. Stupid. A MUDBLOOD. Filthy little witch. You know you need it. Come on, you dirty weakling. DO IT.'_

She was gripping her quill, staring at her textbook, trying to jot down notes.

'_FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT. NOTHING BUT A SPOILED BRAT BROUGHT UP BY THOSE __DISGUSTING__ MUGGLES.'_

"SHUT UP!" she yelled, slamming her open hands on the desk. _'Oh shit,'_ she thought, eyes wide. That was out loud. Correction: That was VERY out loud.

"M-Miss Gra-anger! 50 points from Gr-ryfindor! And d-detention tonight-t!" Snape bellowed from his desk, standing up. "Class d-dismissed! OUT! _NOW!_ Not you Miss Gr-ranger. S-stay behind."

'_Oh SHIT,'_ she thought once more. She looked at her best friend and her boyfriend and gave them both a reassuring nod. They weren't convinced and she knew she would have a lot of explaining to do later.

She turned her attention back to her professor, as she stood slowly to approach him, the last of the Slytherins laughing their way out.

"I'm so sorry, Professor. I didn—"

"Enough! You-u've been acting out of character all w-week, Miss Granger, d-don't think I haven't taken notice. If it is, in fa-act, a p-p-personal problem, I'm sure P-Poppy would be more than w-willing to ass-i-i-st you. Be glad we weren't doing an-anything p-practical, or else I'm sure you would have s-surely bl-blown up the entire class-r-room. Now-w, get out of my sight. And be pr-rompt tonight at 6pm. And w-wear clothing you won-n't mind getting ru-ruined," he preached.

She just blushed furiously and stared at her shoes. _Gods, how she hated how he made her feel like she was 11 all over again._

"Yes, sir. I apologize again, sir."

***o*o*o***

Hermione avoided the Common Room, knowing that she would be bombarded with questions.

Not only that she was worried that word would have quickly spread about her sudden mad-woman like outburst.

Not that she normally minded, it just created more of a headache than she already had. Pushing the thought away, she headed toward the library.

She found her small corner hidden by bookshelves and relaxed, throwing her things to the ground and curling up on a thick armchair.

'_Greaaat job, down there. Really. Gave a better show that I ever could have, my sweet.'_

"Yeah. Cuz you're fucking dead," she grumbled to herself.

'_Now that's not very nice. All I wanted was to feel that delicious blade against your soft skin.'_

"Ughhhh. Will you just go AWAY," she mumbled into the sofa.

'_Do this for me and I gladly will, my pet. At least until the next time I get hungry comes about.'_

She cringed. It felt so much like Bellatrix was inside her. So much so, that she feared part of Bellatrix's soul was still living, deep within the confines of Hermione.

She shook the thought from her mind. She was fine. She didn't need it at the moment.

Right now, she really didn't have to listen.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Detention had gone rather smoothly, to her content. She hadn't finished her duties, though, before it was time for dinner. As a woman of integrity she always was one to finish what she began.

So the next evening found her, on her own accord, trailing the walk down to the dungeons.

Once she reached the familiar dark wooden door, she knocked hesitantly.

"Enter," she heard his slithery voice say.

The door creaked as she stepped through timidly. She was donned in the same work clothes she had worn the previous night. They were singed, a few holes here and there, and were speckled with black paint.

"M-Miss Granger. You don't have d-detention tonight," he informed plainly, kneading his brows together.

"I know, sir. But I was hoping I could finish what I started yesterday?... I hate the feeling of leaving something incomplete," she asked unsurely, shifting her weight awkwardly from one foot to another.

He raised an eyebrow at her and simply nodded. With a wave of his hand, four cauldrons appeared. Dismissing any other formality, he turned his attention back to grading.

They were all defective cauldrons. One was caked with some sort of dark green substance, another was half painted black, another was splattered with pink, yellow, and blue globs, and the last had been turned into wood.

She walked over to the half painted one, inspecting the unfinished side of it. She had scraped away all the grim, rust, and old paint, but still didn't have time to finish painting the whole thing.

Hermione walked over to the cabinet to the Potion Master's left, grabbing a brush and a paint tin from the bottommost shelf. Walking back, she set to work immediately, taking the lid off the tin.

They worked in silence, her attention never leaving the task at hand. She attentively dipped the brush into the specifically made fireproof paint and began her slow strokes on the large object.

He didn't regard her, not speaking a word. He did ponder, though, on the fact that it must mean something that this particular girl _chose_ to spend her time doing manual labor.

And for _him_, nonetheless. He brushed away the thought. Whatever it was, he didn't need the insolent girl creating another scene in his most needed time.

Four feet of countless essays to grade. Sometimes his anger really clouded his ability to think twice about things.

Especially the fact that making his students miserable with this assignment, would, in turn, backfire on him.

He sighed loudly. He suddenly felt her eyes on him. He looked up, menacing.

"May I help you-u, Miss Gran-anger?" he managed to mutter. _Damn his stupid stutter._

She blushed and looked down. He noticed she was nearly halfway done with painting the first cauldron.

"It's n-nothing, sir, you just sounded… overwhelmed, is all," she stammered nervously, returning to her work.

_He still had it? Even with a blasted stutter, he still had it!_

He grunted noncommittally in response. But then he looked at all the papers he had to grade. _Indeed, I am._ Then pointedly at her. With another wave of his hand, the other three cauldrons disappeared.

"When you've f-finished painting, I'd like to put your ab-bilities to b-b-better use, if you don't m-muh-mind," he informed as she looked at him quizzically.

She nodded politely, but didn't turn back to her work. She watched him turn his attention to his grading once more.

_What a complicated man…_ she conceded, and recommenced her work.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Lost in the writings of third years on the effects of putting ingredients in the wrong order, he didn't notice Hermione had already finished her task. She looked at the clock.

It was about 6:04pm. She had been there slightly under half an hour.

Looking at the man in front of her, she cleared her throat.

"Professor?" she asked, fidgeting with her nails.

"Hm? Ah. Yes. Take half th-the stack o-of these essays," he ordered, and resumed reading.

She did as he bade, walking briskly to his desk. Before she picked up them, though, she hesitated.

"You trust me with grading, Sir?" she asked tentatively, scolding herself mentally for sounding so timorous.

He could only look at her, fighting at how to phrase his answer without giving her the underhanded compliment she was fishing for.

"You p-p-pride yourself in being an insuff-f-f-f-erable know-it-all. So go on. P-prove it," he challenged.

She smiled brightly and accepted graciously.

And so they worked. Not one or the other spoke, too engrossed in their work.

***o*o*o***

Another half hour had passed before he noticed she was still there, helping him grade essay. He couldn't help himself, his curiosity taking the best of him.

"As unfortunately helpful your p-presence is, M-Miss Gra-a-anger, I find your ent-tertainm-ment of choice qu-qua-quite que-e-stionable for a Friday evening-g. In-n fact, it is less than un-e-expected. W-with the D-d-dungeon Ba-at, no less. T-t-tell me, don't you have more… _interesting _things to be d-doing?" he spoke finally, in his smooth unwavering voice.

He saw the heat rush to her cheeks, seemingly ashamed of the answer to come. "To be honest… No... not really. This is a nice distraction, I suppose. Besides, I haven't been in a very… social… mood as of late," she replied awkwardly.

"I hadn't noticed," his voice drawled, rolling his eyes and looking back at his essay.

She huffed and glared at him, but he continued to ignore her.

Looking back down, she noticed she only had two more essays to grade. And then another thought struck her. Soon she wouldn't have a good enough distraction.

A faint echo of _her_ laughter teased her ears. _Aw shit._

"Sir?" she said without thinking. She just needed noise. Any noise.

"What is it, Miss G-Granger?" he said with a tinge of annoyance peaking through, wanting to finish his essays before dinner.

"…N-Nevermind. I… have to go," she mumbled, getting up abruptly. Her head was pounding. _Her _cackle was getting exceedingly louder by the second.

She had to silence her. She had to make it go away before it completely engulfed her.

She looked around and realized she hadn't brought anything.

"M-Miss Granger?" he stood as she went for the door frantically.

"I'm sorry. Thank you. For letting me stay, that is. Goodnight, Professor," she called out to him. And with that she was gone.

His eyebrows were furrowed together.

Well then. _That _was weird…

***o*o*o***

An audible sigh could be heard from the seventh years' girls' lavatory. She didn't mind though, the door securely locked.

Feeling the sensations take over, she let her metal tool clatter to her side.

For now she was content.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

The breeze whipped back her hair. It was Sunday, so that meant a Hogsmeade trip was underway. The increasingly biting air whirled around her and swayed the trees lining the walk down.

She was strolling aimlessly, knowing Harry and Ron were visiting the reopened Zonko's and comparing it with the ever so popular Weasley Wizard Wheezes. A small pang pulled at her heart as she thought of Fred. Nothing had been the same obviously. But they seemed to… manage… as best as they could. They managed to… cope.

She shook the memory from her thoughts as a swarm of third years cross her path.

She noticed The Three Broomsticks was not far off and decided to wander in. Opening the door to the cozy establishment, she was greeted with the wafting sensation of warmth. As it surged through her, she removed her thin scarf and walked over to an empty chair in the corner.

She sighed as she plopped down onto the wooden chair, shrugging off her coat and letting it drape over the back of the chair. The table was made for two, the seat in front of her alarmingly desolate. She sighed again, resting her chin on her propped up hand. She peered down at the rustic type table and smirked. Carved into it were the letters "J+L" with a heart around it. It looked rather old and she let herself wonder the identity of the two lovers. It didn't take too long, realizing who it could be and smiling further and tracing it slowly.

Some days she wished she could get whisked off her feet, saved like a damsel in distress. But she'd soon brush those frivolous ideals away, realized she was fine by herself and completely able-minded to do anything she wanted or needed to do. She was an independent fully competent woman.

She was broken out of her reverie when a chirpy waitress came to her order.

"Hiya, I'm hope. Something to drink?" she asked cheerily, smiling down at her patron.

Hermione looked up and grinned back, "Yes, thank you. Just one butterbeer, please."

The girl nodded and started to walk away. Before she could, Hermione managed to stop her and call her back before she got too far.

"Yes?" the girl asked, smiling, walking back to the corner.

"Would you mind putting in a mug?" she asked sheepishly.

"N-no. Sure. Right away," she answered with a small nod, turning back and briskly walking over to the bar.

_Oh great. Now she thinks I'm a nutter._

Hermione shook her head, curls bouncing around her. The view out of the large window to her left was comforting. A pair of, what looked like, fifth years were throwing leaves at each other. She sighed contentedly, a soft smile playing across her lips. How she longed for the days when she was happy and carefree. The times, as a first year, where she was teeming with discovery, awe, and wonder; and most of innocence. She remembered how much she wished to mature… and how much she wanted experiences… knowledge… to see everything, _know_ everything. And now that she had that… she wanted to take that wish back.

'_Aw, ickle Mudblood wants her stupid naivety back. I might vomit.'_

'_Oh shut up. You can't affect me. Not now, at least,'_ Hermione thought to herself, pushing it all away in one fell swoop.

Just in time, too, for her bubbly waitress was walking back to her with not only her mug, but those of others as well. Setting down the mug filled to the rim with the golden liquid, Hope walked over to the table a few paces away from her, disposing of the other three mugs. Before Hermione could pull out her wand and focus on the beverage, though, Hope had turned and misplaced her stepping. Grabbing onto what she could, and shrieking lightly, (echoed by another shriek), she managed to stay standing.

Regaining her composure, she turned to a wincing Hermione that was looking down at the small hand on her arm.

"Oh, blimey! I'm so sorry. Grasped on a bit tight there, didn't I?" she said ruefully, releasing her vice grip on Hermione's arm. She let out her breath in a hiss of pain, cradling her arm protectively. She closed her eyes, focusing on only the pain emanating from her fresh cuts.

'_Now that's unfortunate, isn't it, my Mudblood?'_

She growled, forgetting she was in public. Hope had already walked away, she noted as she opened her eyes. She looked around and took in the view. There were few Hogwarts students, seeing what she recognized as blue and bronze Ravenclaw scarves. Deciding that the risk of getting caught was negligible due to their distance, she allowed herself to take a quick peek at her arm.

Lifting the glamour, she rolled up her sleeve carefully, obscuring the view of it from lingering eyes by angling herself just right.

Five of the cuts had bled a bit, but not enough to worry her. She pulled out her wand and pointed it to her arm.

"Scourgify," she whispered quickly, and rolled down her sleeve hastily.

Heaving out a breath, she tucked her side bangs behind her ear and angled herself back to face her mug. Smiling, she raised her wand and performed a heating spell on the butterbeer. Picking it up and blowing on the steaming cup, she took a small sip. The smooth buttery heat engulfed her senses. It was uncommon, she knew, to hear up butterbeer, yet she couldn't help but love it. The idea had come to her after being used to drinking hot cider at Christmases with her parents and not having that luxury at the Burrow. The only beverage that they seemed to have was pumpkin juice, milk, or butterbeer. Plus a myriad of alcoholic choices. She had had her fill of milk, but of course was choosing not to get plastered, and was ready for something more festive.

And so, hot butterbeer had come into creation, catching on throughout the Weasley family and a few of her friends. She sipped again, feeling fully at ease as the warmth washed over her. The froth on her upper lip ticked her nose and she grinned, licking it with expertise.

The bells on the front of the door jingled, bringing her attention over to it. She spotted the lanky red-head and waved her arm to beckon him over. He smiled sweetly and walked purposefully over to her. She felt good. Almost normal.

'_Yes, almost. Don't forget about me, my sweet intolerable girl.'_

She ignored the voice, heart swelling as he sat in front of her.

"Ooh. That hot butterbeer? How'd you manage that without Mum's stove?" he asked enfatically, responding well to her sudden good mood.

"A heating charm. Not as lasting. But. If I gulp it down quickly, it's no difference. Just a burned tongue," she replied giggling and blowing at the steaming cup.

He chuckled in response, his face lighting up at seeing her so happy. "Could I have a sip, 'Mione?" he asked, scooting his chair closer to the table. She nodded, still grinning, and slid the mug over to him.

"Where's Harry?" she asked, realizing their black-haired friend was nowhere to be seen. Ron had taken a drink and swallowed it with a satisfied _'Ahhh.'_

"Ginny insisted on looking at the new dress robes that Gladrags' got in store. He went to humour her. I fancied a mug of butterbeer, myself, but settled for a cool one," he relayed. "Guess I didn't have to."

She rolled her eyes but took his big freckled hand in hers and laced her fingers with his.

"I'm sorry I didn't talk to you about what's going on. I just… I don't want…" she stared to say, just above a whisper, looking down at the mug he had given back to her.

"Don't want what, 'Mione?" he said tenderly, searching for her eyes.

"I don't want us to change… I just… I feel that if I show you that side of me… you'll change. Well not you. Just. Change the way you treat me. And I don't want that to happen. I like how we work. You make me feel normal. And it feels so. Good. I never want you walking on eggshells around me. I love too much to lose you. To lose what we have. And it's not that I don't trust you. Because I do. It's just. You've your own hurt to deal with. And I don't wanna burden you," she finally admitted, looking down bashfully.

He sighed and tightened his hand around her slender one.

"I know. And I believe you. It's just. I don't understand… because I love you. All sides of you. And I can take care of you, 'Mione. If you just let me. I know I can be a brute sometimes… (at this she glared at him) Alright, alright, a lot of the time… but… you're my angel. The voice that saved me when I was lost in the woods. I can't help it… I just get so jealous…" he replied, pouting slightly. "I mean… why'd you choose me? I'm not smart. And I don't know. Harry's so much more…"

And with that his shoulders slumped.

"Hey. Don't gimme that. I chose not to have anything go on with Harry because it would be borderline incestuous. The mere idea of it makes me gag," she said, shivering at thought of it.

Ron could only smirk up at her sheepishly. He leaned forward and placed a lingering kiss on her lips. She sighed out her nose, grinning for what felt like the umpteenth time that afternoon.

She hadn't even realized she hadn't cast the glamour over arm again.

* * *

><p><strong>Okay, okay, I know it's RonHermione fluff. But. It's a gradual transition. Trust me. I know what I'm doing (uhhhhh...). :D**

**I just hate that everyone assumes that Ron's a *bleep*. Idk. I love Ron. Yes, he's a tard. But. I don't know. He _is_ sweet. And I really would hate to make him the bad guy. At least. In this story. It doesn't fit. Not yet, at least.  
><strong>

**Read and review please! And tell me if you like my writing style. Or hate it and think I should abandon writing.**

**Thank youuu!  
><strong>

**~ Tati**


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

The dark alley was in his line of view. He scoffed as he passed some dirty old hag that was trying to sell him what looked like a poor attempt at a replica of Salazar Slytherin's locket.

Still sneering, he gripped onto the small black _"Wizarding Supplies"_ shopping bag he was holding. His black scarf billowed behind him as he walked towards _Eudoxia's Apothecary._ Resding two doors from Moribund's and not right by the Leaky Cauldron anymore, he stepped into the refurbished yet obviously decaying little shop.

"Good evening, Severus, take it you need to restock?" came a low and maternal voice.

"Ind-d-deed, Madam Mont-tmoren-n-cy," Snape replied, nodding to her and walking to the Potions section.

"Oh Severus, when are you going to just call me Eudoxia? I've known you since you were the ripe old age of 19, for Merlin's sake," she admonished affectionately.

"Prec-cisely the r-reason why. It's bec-c-come hab-bit, I'm af-fraid," he replied, attempting to suppress a smirk.

The elderly woman just winked at her regular customer and let him go on his way.

Nodding politely in reply, he walked over to a bookshelf full of obscure and dangerous looking things.

"How-w a-are you adj-u-usting?" he asked, picking up a small jar and peering at it calculatingly.

"It's been a struggle. It's much smaller here," she replied flippantly. "I miss my old shop. I don't understand why they had to raid and completely destroy it."

Snape just grunted noncommittally. She saw him tense. Had he been there? She shook her head at the thought. Opening her mouth to say something, Snape beat her to it.

"Your i-invent-tory never c-ceases-s to a-a-amaze me-e, Mad-dam," he spoke into the small room.

Taking the hint, she allowed the subject change.

"Ahhh. I see you've noticed the new stock of Antimony," the elderly woman replied, walking over to him briskly.

"Qui-te. It's just so gor-g-eous to l-look at," he admired. "So m-much so, that-t a stu-udent of mine touch-ch-ched it and it t-t-toppled to the grou-und."

"I thought you kept your private supply in your storeroom," she asked, looking at his praising expression.

"Yes. But I f-f-ound this to be-e too l-lovel-l-ly to look at to keep-p lock-ked up," he mumbled, walking over to the paying counter to set it down.

Turning back around, he walked past her. Reaching up he grabbed a small glass jar of what looked like fine purple powder.

"Brewing Blood Replenishing Potion?" the woman asked him.

"Yes. For the s-seventh a-n-nd ei-i-ghth years. My Agrip-p-pa stock was alar-m-ming-ly low."

"Madam Pomfrey will be most pleased," Eudoxia beamed. "How is my dear cousin, Poppy?"

"I… I do n-not know. I… haven't spoken-n much to her s-since… Well. S-since I've b-been back-k. Sh-she sav-ved my life. I just d-don't know-w what to s-say," Snape admitted softly, looking down.

"Makes sense. No worries, dearie. Give her my regards, when you do speak to her," she replied kindly.

Nodding awkwardly, he turned back to the Agrippa. He grabbed a few more seemingly random jars, big and small, and brought them over to the counter.

"Severus?" Eudoxia murmured gently.

He looked at her timidly. He felt like he was 19 all over again, caught with his hand in the bezoar jar.

"I'm glad you survived. This summer must have been… grueling, to say the least. With the trial, and all. For what it's worth… I never believed what you had to do was with malintention," she relayed in a small but purposeful voice.

_Damn that woman. Damn that woman to hell._

"Th-thank you, Doxia-a. It. Means more than y-you know," he replied pushing his voice to mask his stammer as best he could.

"Do not hesitate to visit. You can help me shelf and admire my international stock that's coming in next month," she offered, handing him a small burlap bag with his ingredients in it.

"I'd-d be d-delighted," he responded, his cheeks pinking. _Damn damn woman._

With one last nod and knowing look, he left.

She returned the gesture with a grin. And as she did, he couldn't help but feel a small weight lifted off his shoulders.

At least someone saw some good in him. Catching himself grinning softly, he steeled his expression, remembering where it was he was walking exactly.

Poor woman. She had to now suffer the shifty environment of Knockturn Alley. He regretted a lot of things, but raiding and pilfering one of his childhood hideaways was definitely at the top of his list. He made sure she was gone the day they raided. She didn't need to see that.

Suddenly, a shiver ran down his spine, breaking him out of his thoughts. His body was on high alert. Someone was watching him. Not only watching, but following him.

He stiffened and veered into the dark nook just past Borgin and Burkes. Casting a Disillusionment Charm on himself, he turned to find none other than Draco Malfoy in a large and quite conspicuous coat.

"D-Draco, I hope you r-realize th-at you-u are rem-markabl-ly obv-v-ious," his smooth mocking voice said, making the boy jump.

Draco turned and turned searching for the source of the voice. Realizing he probably looked like a dunderhead, he stopped midturn and quickly composed himself.

"Come on. I need to talk to you," Draco said to nowhere in particular. Snape was smirking from behind him, coming to loom over him. He felt Draco tense and he dropped the charm.

"You-u know you can j-just come to-o my office for tha-a-t, Dra-aco, instead of follow-wing me off c-a-ampus and into-o a part-ticul-larly shady area," Snape replied as the boy turned to face him.

"Yes… I know… But I… I didn't want to talk to you as a professor… just. As my godfather," Draco murmured gently.

With Lucius in Azkaban and his mother borderline hysterical due to too much anxiety and grief, Severus had taken the role of guidance and rather caretaker for the immensely jaded boy.

Snape sighed and nodded for what felt like the millionth time that day.

"L-let me App-a-rate us back to the H-Hog's Head," Snape offered, face stoic.

"Oh. Could we not? A lot of Slytherins are there," Draco asked, looking down.

"V-very well. But y-you are _not_ dragging m-me into that infernal Thr-ree Broo-oms-sticks. As m-much as I prid-de myself in not caring-g, I'd rather avoi-id judg-ging glares tonight-t," Snape scoffed, straightening up.

"I take it Madam Puddifoot's is out of the question?" Draco tried, choking back his laughter.

Snape blanched and grimaced and Draco cracked, letting go of his mirthful howls.

"Th-think… of what… what it'd look like!" he spat out, doubled over, clutching his stomach.

Snape rolled his eyes and grabbed him by the cuff of his collar, dragging him over to a familiar off the road pathway. Clutching the grinning and teary eyed boy to his side, a loud crack disturbed the air around them.

Draco opened his eyes, a bit disoriented.

"W-where? Wait… is this?..." Draco began, looking around and taking a few steps away from the imposing man next to him.

"Yes. I… find it fit-t-tting. I… assume y-you w-wanted to speak about o-our trials?" Snape replied, following his godson to face the broken-down shack. Even more ramshackle than he remembered.

Draco nodded and smirked at his insight.

"There's a rumour going around that you cry or tear up whenever someone mentions this place. Needless to say, I didn't believe. But I am still a bit shocked," Draco admitted, stuffing his hands in his pockets, feet crushing on the leaves beneath them.

Snape shrugged a shoulder, setting down his bags on a convenient stump around a metre away from the small wire gate.

"I would com-m-me here to think-k after h-hearings. Surprisingly it clear-red my m-mind. Reminded me of m-my mortality, or some hogw-wash like that, I suppose."

Sitting down with a grunt of age on said stump, Severus looked off towards the shack. Draco just watched his godfather, absorbing his candid attitude that he so rarely got to see now that term started.

Walking over and sitting next to him on the ground, he sighed, beginning their usual post-war game.

"Nightmares?" he asked casually.

Scoffing, he shook his head and laughed something of a rough bark.

"My night-m-mares would makes yours c-cower in fear," he replied. Raising an eyebrows and looking down at the smirking boy, he rallied back.

"Reading into what people are saying to find that there was nothing deeper to their question or statement?"

"HA! A few days ago I was having pillow talk with this one sixth year (at this Snape rolled his eyes, unnoticed by the blonde), and she said she was afraid of the dark. I flipped out and thought she meant… well the _Dark_… and well. You know," he replied, rubbing his left arm instinctively.

_I wonder if I do that too and not notice…_

Smirking, he nodded and let his dark hair fall in his face.

"That-t… is what you call acute p-p-paranoia, boy," Snape chuckled, shaking his head and clasping his hands together.

"When… when are people going to believe us? I get glares and looks all the time. Like I deserve to die or… or even worse… live. Like I should feel like shit… Which I do, _dammit!_ People don't understand that it was I choose his side or my whole family gets fucking chopped to pieces, while we're still alive, mind you," Draco spat bitterly.

"And you-u didn't even kill the bastard. Damn that senti-i-mental old fool. Then again I don't think-k he expect-t-ed me to live," Severus muttered just as bitterly.

"Well fuck. I shouldn't even be complaining, should I?" Draco grumbled mirthlessly.

"S-seriously. Shut up, you incorrig-g-ible prat," Snape grumbled, slicking his hair back.

Draco knew it wasn't heartfelt. That was an equivalent to a hair ruffle and a pat on the back. He smirked over his companion. Sometimes he felt like his Potions Professor was the only one that understood him.

"In a way, I agree D-Draco. It m-might come as a big surprise to you, but I never really t-talk about these topics with anyone," Snape said, voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Shit, did I say that out loud?" Draco mumbled. Snape smirked and turned to look at him.

"Hopefully time w-will pass and… peopl-le will get over i-it. More so-o you, than me. Unfortunately, it may take t-time. A lot of tim-m-e,"Snape comforted as best he could.

"Thank you, sir. By… by the way. Your… your stammer has gotten better. It's not as noticeable when you're relaxed," Draco informed a bit awkwardly.

"Five points from S-Slytherin," Snape teased, smirking wider than he had before.

"What! Not fair. If anything I should get 10 points for great observation skills!" he shrieked, hand on his heart in mock indignation.

"Five points from Gryffindor," Snape replied, ignoring him.

Draco raised an eyebrow, something he had caught on as of late. Snape just shrugged a shoulder, sitting up straight.

"M-McGonagall looked d-dreadful today. Surely that c-counts," Snape replied, face completely serious.

Draco snorted, rolling his eyes.

"If that counts, they'd _never_ be able to win back points," Draco scoffed.

"Ten points to S-Slytherin for outs-standing observations sk-kills," Snape said, showing off his quick wit.

Both men just grinned. And when the two walked back towards the castle, they were both feeling slightly lighter than before.

* * *

><p><strong>OMG. So I'm so sorry for the long wait! I was just ridiculously busy with prepping to go to college and then being out of the country and then swimteam.<strong>

**I have another chapter written I just have to type it. Again I'm sooooo sorry. And I've mapped out a few more chapters. Just gotta sit down and write them.**

**With college starting and all, I might be pretty busy. But on Tuesdays and Thursdays I have 5 hours inbetween my two classes! So I think I'll squeeze in time.**

**Hope you liked the chappy! I'll be updating soon, promise. :]**

**R&R pleaseeeeeeeeeee!**

**~ Tat  
><strong>


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N:**** So I'm totes sorry I didn't get to this earlier. It's been on my comp for some time.**

**I just haven't gotten around to editing it. What with college starting and all.**

**Just finished my first week! YESSSS!**

**Now onto a 3-DAY WEEKEND. WOOOT. OF HOMEWORK. NOT WOOT. :\**

**DISCLAIMER:**__

_**Hello! My name is Harry Potter, you may or may not have heard of me. **_

_**Stopped by to say that **__**as much **__**as I **completely**_**** _adore Tatiana, she is not the one that owns me._**

**_No, that's my dear Queen Mum, JKR._**

**_Enjoy! R&R!_**

**_- The Chosen One_**

**Chapter 9**

It was a sunny Tuesday afternoon, with Ancient Runes coming to an end. Hermione was packing up her "Beedle and the Bard" book. Her Professor had been pontificating about how proud she was that Hermione had been published as the translator in the most recent copy of the book. Hermione just smiled and nodded, blocking it all out.

She didn't much like the whole series anymore. It reminded her too much of well... Everything. All their endeavors. It was just too much. Everyone just stared at her the whole class, expecting her to retell her year on the run. They could bloody well shove off in her book. Even Ginny had stared with expecting eyes.

_'The nerve of that grimy blood traitor,' _the sultry voice in her head echoed.

'She is NOT grimy. Nor is she a blood traitor. But really. I'm not some action story here for your entertainment, Ginerva,' Hermione retorted inwardly.

_'Precisely what I was saying, my dear. Keep those secrets here. Safe with me,' _her voice cackled with mock endearment.

Shaking her head, she finished packing and raced out the door, straight to the Great Hall.

*o*o*

"Ronald, will you EVER learn how to eat properly?" she scolded her boyfriend, gently.

Swallowing his food, he replied, "At least I don't speak with my mouth full anymore. That's just disgusting."

Rolling her eyes, she shoved him playfully, Harry chuckling along with them.

"How was Runes with Gin, 'Mione?" Harry asked conversationally.

"Hell. I used to love that class. But now they all just expect me to do is spew on about the Deathly Hallows or our year off last year. I'm tired of it. Even Ginny pushed it a bit," Hermione relayed, serving herself some beetroot. Harry winced at the last comment.

"Well, I'm sure it wasn't in a gossiping manner," Harry defended, cutting his chicken.

"Yeah. I think it was more so you could finally get it off your chest, you know?" Ron pitched in. "I mean. Once I did... After Fred's erm... Funeral (at this both Harry and Hermione grimaced)... You guys remember? I went off with George and let it all out. It. It was good."

"I suppose. And yes, I do understand. But do really expect me to have sort of talk in a class? And make a spectacle of it, nonetheless? No. No, thank you," Hermione replied, stabbing her beetroot a bit too harshly.

And so they fell into a calm silence. Not too tense or anything. Just. Pensive. Until something rather drastic broke it.

"Yeah! He was all 'A-A-ANTIDOTE and T-TAKE Y-Y-OUR S-SEATS' HAHAHA! Blundering idiot!" one boy yelled quite loudly.

"I know! 'T-T-TEN P-P-POINTS FR-O-OM G-GRYF-F-FINDOR!" another called back just as loud.

Hermione shot up and raced over to them, seething.

"Want to say that again? Hm? Professor Snape risked his life so you two _twerps_ could live in a world without some racist pig as our dictator," Hermione spat, now flanked by Harry and Ron.

"What do _you_ know? He _killed_ Dumbledore. I don't even see how he got let back here," said one boy with brown hair and a smug look on his face. Complete 4th year.

"BECAUSE I TESTIFIED AT HIS TRIAL," Harry snarled at the boy. "You wanna know the truth? Huh, big shot? He killed Dumbledore because Dumbledore had TOLD him to. Because Dumbledore was cursed and was already dying. Plus numerous other things that your TINY LITTLE HEAD COULDN'T COMPREHEND. And how would WE know? Well if hadn't notched already, I'm Harry _FREAKING_ Potter. I was there. Next time you make fun of Snape, greasy git or not, you'll pay," Harry ranted, getting up in the boy's face. Without warning, he stalked away, leaving everyone staring.

"We were just poking fun at his stammer..." the other boy finally murmured sheepishly, casting a pleading look at Hermione.

"If I was still Head Girl-"

"And I was Head Boy, you'd be IN for it, you little chits. Yeah, he's the Dungeon Bat. Woohoo let's make fun of Snape. I did. I hated the guy. Come to think of it, I still do. He's a bastard, actually. But above that, I respect him. You wanna know how he got that stammer? (At this the boys' faces blanched.) V-Voldemort (he still had trouble saying the name) ordered his giant poisonous snake to kill him. The snake went for his throat, practically tearing his voice box out. My dad was attacked by the same snake and he barely made it. The snake venom is magically altered to keep a person from clotting. So they just bleed and bleed and BLEED. DOESN'T THAT JUST SOUND RUDDY HILARIOUS?" Nostrils flared, Ron followed suit and stalked out of the Hall.

With one last icy glare Hermione went up to the two boys, voice low, menacing, and barely above a whisper.

"Pull that little goddamn stunt again, and I'll let Snape have your arses in detention for the next month. Trust me. I _CAN_ make it happen," she rumbled, voice raspy with emotion.

Pointing her finger at them warningly' she stomped out of the room.

Little did they know that the black haired man, currently blushing a violent shade of red, had been watching from the Professor's Table the whole time.

"Forty p-points to Gryff-findor," he whispered under his breath, getting up and retreating out of the hall through the teacher's entrance.

And soon, the red rubies trickled into their corresponding hourglass as Harry, Ron, and Hermione passed by, too fumed to even notice.

*o*o*

Hermione was pacing back and forth in the common room, a butterbeer that Ron had nicked from The Three Broomsticks in hand. At the moment she didn't care that it was stolen. Taking a huge swig, she rammed it down on the table. Ron and Harry just stared, still quite angry as well.

"I'm surprised you guys backed me up... No offense or anything. Just. You guys hate him," she let out emotionless.

"Yeah. I do. But... He's the last person living that went to school with my parents and really knew them... I don't know. I just. When you see someone seemingly die right before your eyes... It sorts changes things. I still don't like him, don't get me wrong, but...it's just. It's different," Harry muttered.

Ron nodded, taking a swig from his own butterbeer. "It took me a while to realize he wasn't a complete murdering pile of shit, especially after what he did to George's ear, but after talking to my dad... No one deserves that kind of death. Well sides old Snakeface. Personally, he went way too peacefully," he replied, looking up at his flushed girlfriend. Smirking, he winked at her. Glaring with a face of _'Ron! Not here!'_ and a smirk of her own, she turned to Harry who began to speak.

"Agreed. That lunatic... Man... You know. It really makes me think about how easily my life could have just taken a turn for the worst. I mean. Look at us. So similar... Why was _I_ any different," Harry mused out loud, more to himself than anyone else.

"Oh Harry, you know why. Love. Real love. Not that Amorentia-concocted love that Merope Gaunt created Voldemort in. From the beginning, Voldemort was born into a lie," Hermione interpreted, sitting down across from the boys. Harry nodded, bringing up his index finger to stroke his lip.

"None of it... Nevermind," Ron suddenly mumbled.

"No, no, what?" Hermione prompted, leaning in. Harry nodded and looked at his friend expectantly. The redhead shrugged and took another swig. She was surprised at how marginally more insightful Ron had become. It was something that had really changed in him since Fred's death.

"Well. I dunno. I feel like sometimes... It wasn't worth it. I mean, sure, the people that were in the war and all have changed. But it's the younger generation I'm worried about. I still hear stuff about "Mudbloods" (Hermione's arm twitched at this, and it wasn't left unnoticed) - sorry, 'Mione. But I still hear it, you know? And it's just, obviously people are still stupid with the whole Snape thing... It's just now... Oh, I don't know," Ron shrugged again and sat back.

"Well that's because of ignorance. It really isn't bliss. And unfortunately parents are resorting to that when questions come up about the war. They gloss over it and now none of the younger generations know anything. And if they too it's far too vague to count," Hermione said fervently, shaking her head.

"I guess it'll just take time... Too much time if you ask me…" Harry sighed, checking his watch. "It's 7:23. People are going to start showing up soon. Want to go and get your chess set and go for a round, Ron?"

"Sure. You don't mind, do you, 'Mione?" Ron asked, getting up, Harry following suit.

Shaking her head, she stood up and walked over to them.

"Let's just stay up in your room, no? I can start my Charms reading."

Both boys nodded, heading towards the stairs as Hermione packed up her things. Jogging over to them, she walked up right behind them and up a few steps. But before long...

_'Aren't you feeling a bit too normal? No. This just won't do.'_

"NO," Hermione yelled out loud. The boys turned and stared with worried expressions.

"Talk! Help! I'm. I'M HAVING A FLASHBACK. Anything. No no NO! Make it go away!" Hermione hollered, sinking down to the stone steps, dropping all of her belongings.

Ron snapped his head over to Harry, face drained of color, panic coursing through their veins. Bending down immediately, both boys picked up the girl and raced her up to their room. Kicking the door open, they hobbled over as fast as they could to the closest bed.

"Hermione, stop! Stop wiggling!" Ron yelled as they tried setting her down.

"NO! I- I- We didn't! We found the sword! I promise! PLEASE!" she yelled even louder, thrashing violently and flailing her arms to smack them away.

Ron just stood there, shell shocked. He just couldn't process this. Harry on the other hand, threw caution to the wind, and got on the bed with her. He was soon whispering desperately in her ear.

"It's okay. Come on. I'm right here. Bellatrix is dead. Long gone. You're right here. Hogwarts. My bed... Hm... That sounds compromising... Anyway, it's me. Harry. Harry Potter. Your brother," he soothed, the girl still thrashing in his arms.

"Come on, buttercup. Will it away. I'm right here. Break through," he murmured gently, attempting to stoke her hair.

"H-Harry?" she gasped, opening her eyes, finally calming down at the sound of her nickname. But then came the sobs, dangerously wracking her frail body. Harry rocked her back and forth, without thinking. Ron broke out of his trance and crawled up behind her, wrapping his arms around her gingerly.

And as he ran his hand over her forearm soothingly, he was too preoccupied to realize that he was feeling scars on the wrong arm.


End file.
